


Ronald Weasley and the Goblet of Fire

by iam93percentstardust



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: Ronald Weasley is hurt and jealous when his best friend is selected as Triwizard champion. After all, everything happens to Harry. A retelling of the first half of Goblet of Fire.





	Ronald Weasley and the Goblet of Fire

“Harry Potter.”

The Great Hall fell silent. Every head turned to stare at the fourth champion. Slowly, people started to murmur to each other. Some students were even standing to get a better look at Harry.

Ron was just as dumbfounded. His best mate--champion in the Triwizard Tournament? It didn’t seem real. Harry was saying something to him and Hermione but he didn’t catch it. There was a dull roar in his ears.

Dumbledore called again, “Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please!”

Harry slowly left the Great Hall. The buzz of murmurs turned to a roar of shouts. Hermione was whipping out a book--probably _A History of the Triwizard Tournament_ or something similar. No one was paying attention to Ron.

No one ever did.

His shock turned to confusion. How had Harry managed to put his name in? Even Fred and George hadn’t been able to do it. Why had Harry submitted his name in the first place? It wasn’t as though he didn’t have nearly enough fame and glory in his fourteen years.

With that last thought, his confusion turned to anger. Harry was always first. He was better at lessons, he was the youngest Seeker in a century, he got to the Philosopher’s Stone, he defeated the basilisk, he saved Sirius while he, Ron, had been stuck in the hospital with a broken leg. Ron was always second. He hadn’t played a part in Ginny’s rescue, no according to his parents anyway. His things were always hand-me-downs. Even his first wand had been Charlie’s until he’d snapped it. And that first year at Hogwarts, when he’d written to Mum to tell her that Harry wasn’t expecting any presents, hadn’t she sent Harry a Weasley sweater _and_ a box of fudge? She’d never given Ron anything like that. Well, he’d always gotten the sweater but even then, Harry’s had been of a much higher quality.

And hadn’t Ron mentioned to Harry how much he would have liked to enter the tournament? They were supposed to be best mates! Shouldn’t Harry have told Ron that he’d figured out a way to enter? Why did Harry have to keep all the glory for himself?

The Hall began to empty and Ron automatically left with the crowd, his mind still occupied. In the common room, it looked as though the other Gryffindors were preparing for a party. No one noticed as Ron made his way to the dormitories.

No one ever did.

There was a thunderous roar thirty minutes later. Harry must have arrived. It wasn’t for another half-hour that Ron heard footsteps on the dormitory stairs. Certain that Harry would still be celebrating with the others, he was surprised to see the new champion slam the door. He forced a grin to his face.

“Where’ve you been?” Harry said, looking relieved.

“Oh hello,” Ron replied. Harry seemed to realize that he was wearing a Gryffindor banner as a cape and started to remove it. Ron watched him struggle. He felt a small inclination to help but he was still angry that Harry had succeeded where the others hadn’t. “So, congratulations,” he said eventually.

“What d’you mean, congratulations?” said Harry.

“Well, no one else got across the Age Line,” Ron continued as though he hadn’t heard Harry. “Not even Fred and George. What did you use--the Invisibility Cloak?”

Harry frowned. “The Invisibility Cloak wouldn’t have got me over that line,” he said slowly as though he thought Ron was being stupid.

“Oh, right. I thought you might’ve told me if it was the Cloak…because it would’ve covered both of us wouldn’t it? But you found another way, did you?”

“Listen, I didn’t put my name in that goblet. Someone else must’ve done it.”

Ron’s eyebrows rose. Likely story. After all, “What would they do that for?”

“I dunno,” Harry said lamely. Ron could tell there was something Harry wasn’t telling him and he scoffed.

“It’s okay, you know, you can tell _me_ the truth,” he said. “If you don’t want everyone else to know, fine, but I don’t know why you’re bothering to lie, you didn’t get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady’s, that Violet, she’s already told us all Dumbledore’s letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don’t have to do end-of-year tests either…”

Harry looked furious. “I didn’t put my name in that goblet!” he nearly shouted.

“Yeah, okay,” Ron said skeptically. “Only you said this morning you’d have done it last night and no one would’ve seen you… I’m not stupid, you know.”

Harry snapped, “You’re doing a really good impression of it.”

And there it was. Even Harry thought that he was an idiot, that he wasn’t good enough to tell the truth to. “Yeah?” The forced grin left his face. “You want to go to bed, Harry. I expect you’ll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something.” And he wrenched the hangings shut.

By next morning, Ron had had time to think on the events of the previous night. Deep down, he knew Harry hadn’t submitted his name but Harry’s words had hurt and Ron’s pride was too strong to offer up an apology. If Harry wanted to be friends again, then Harry could approach him himself. He, Ron, had done nothing wrong.

He avoided Harry that first Sunday. He spent the day with Fred and George instead. It wasn’t like being with Harry and Hermione though. The twins were already close to each other. Besides, they were occupied with something on their own minds. They didn’t have the time to really pay attention to Ron.

It became evident the next day that much of the school agreed with Ron. It seemed as though all the other houses had turned against the Gryffindors, particularly the Hufflepuffs. The Slytherins were also rather nasty--but then, they were always nasty.

The first time he even considered speaking with Harry again was the morning of their second Potions lessons after the announcement of Harry’s championship. The Slytherins had shown up with badges:

Support Cedric Diggory

The Real Hogwarts Champion!

The other side read:

Potter Stinks

Ron didn’t find it particularly amusing but he also didn’t feel like standing up for Harry once he arrived. Harry could apparently fight his own battles.

He turned to talk to Seamus and Dean, ignoring the fight brewing nearby. It wasn’t until he heard Hermione whimpering in pain and panic that he looked back. He hurried forward and dragged her hands away from her face.

Her teeth were growing at an alarming rate and were already reaching past her chin. She reached out to feel them and cried out in terror.

“And what is all this noise about?” Snape said, finally arriving on the scene. He glanced at Malfoy and said, “Explain.”

“Potter attacked me, sir--”

“We attacked each other at the same time,” Harry shouted.

“--and he hit Goyle--look--” Malfoy finished. Snape took a closer look at Goyle and ordered him to the hospital wing.

Outraged by the injustice, Ron pointed out, “Malfoy got Hermione! Look!”

Again, he dragged Hermione’s hands away from her face. Snape took one look at her and cruelly said, “I see no difference.” Hermione whimpered, her eyes filled with tears, and she ran up the corridor.

Both Harry and Ron burst out in insults and curses. For their concern, they were both given a detention and fifty points were taken from Gryffindor. For a moment, Ron forgot how upset he was with Harry and marched with him to the back of the classroom. Then, he took a glance at the badges on the Slytherins’ chests and left to join Dean and Seamus again.

It wasn’t long into class when Colin Creevey edged in and announced that Harry had a sort of press conference to attend. Ron snorted and stared at the ceiling. Of course Harry had to have his photograph. It was bad enough that Harry got all the attention at school. Now the entire wizarding world got to know too.

The days passed. There were times when Ron felt like making amends with Harry but he couldn’t quite forget that Harry had told him that he was being stupid. He got it from everyone--Hermione, his professors, his brothers, his parents. And now Harry too. All his life he had felt second best. Bill and Percy were both Head Boy, Charlie was Quidditch Captain, Fred and George were both really popular. Hermione was the brightest witch of their age and Harry, well, Harry was the Boy Who Lived. He, Ron, was a nobody. With the age restriction on the Tournament, he’d at least thought that the three of them would be spectators together but Harry had still found a way around that.

It only got worse when Rita Skeeter’s article in _The Daily Prophet_ came out. Apparently, Harry could open up to some reporter but not to him. And that thing about Hermione and Harry? He knew that they were all friends but had he been missing something? Ron didn’t know why but the thought of Harry and Hermione together made his stomach churn.

At the same time, though, he did miss Harry even if he was mad. He liked Dean and Seamus but they had already been close friends for years. Ron felt like a third wheel around them.

It was barely two days before the first task when Ron woke to the sound of voices in the common room. He looked around the dormitory to see Harry was missing. He listened closer to the voices. One was Harry and he knew he recognized the other voice but he couldn’t think of why he knew it. Ron glanced at the clock: 1:30 a.m. What was Harry doing up at this time? He didn’t want to admit it but he was concerned. Getting up, he made his way down to the common room.

Harry was alone.

Ron looked around and then back at Harry. He felt the urge to apologize, to swallow his pride, and wish Harry luck on his task. But what he said was, “Who were you talking to?” He winced, knowing that it sounded rude.”

Harry looked furious. “What’s that got to do with you?” he snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?”

“I just wondered where you--” he broke off, noting that Harry looked fit to go for his wand and curse him. Ron didn’t know what he’d done to irritate Harry this time but he thought it best to go. “Nothing. I’m going to bed.”

The hatred in Harry’s eyes was clear as he shouted, “Just thought you’d come nosing about, did you?” He sneered at Ron’s too-short pajamas.

Ron’s face reddened. “Sorry about that. Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be disturbed. I’ll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace.”

Harry seized one of Malfoy’s badges and threw it at him. Ron didn’t even try to avoid it and the badge hit his forehead.

“There you go,” Harry snapped. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He shoved past Ron and stormed upstairs.

Ron stood still in shock. He hadn’t expected it to go so wrong but he doubted his and Harry’s friendship would ever mend now.

The morning of the first task dawned bright and cold. Lessons were to stop at midday so that students could attend the task. Ron didn’t want to admit it but he was nervous for Harry. He wished that he could offer Harry advice or hope one last time before the task but wishes were useless.

At lunch, he saw Harry and Cedric being led away. Thirty minutes later, Dumbledore called for the rest of the school to head on down to the stadium. Ron followed behind, wondering what the champions would face.

Hermione was joining him. She looked slightly green. Ron couldn’t tell why. It wasn’t like she knew what Harry would be facing. No one did. They made their way in silence to the stadium. The two found seats near the front, next to Fred and George, who were taking bets on how long it would take each champion to complete their task. A minute passed and then they were leading in--

A dragon.

The champions had to get past a dragon.

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured. Hermione glanced at him, her face ashen, but said nothing. Cedric walked out of the champions’ tent. Ron barely paid attention to his work--Transfiguring a rock into a dog. Then it was Fleur attempting some sort of trance and then Krum was using some sort of spell to blind it.

And then it was Harry.

Harry, who was coming out of the tent. Harry, who stood facing a dragon. Harry, who was yelling, “Accio Firebolt!” Harry, who was attempting some sort of diversionary tactic. Harry, who was getting clawed by the dragon (Ron could hear Hermione screaming--he was too). Harry, who was diving, grabbing the egg, and pulling away.

The crowd was on their feet, screaming, cheering. After seeing the dragons, they’d been on Harry’s side just as much as Cedric’s. Harry was being taken to the First Aid tent and Ron and Hermione were following.

Hermione was daring inside. “Harry, you were brilliant!” she squeaked. “You were amazing! You really were!”

Harry was staring at Ron. He knew that he could never live up to what he’d said and done. Still, he managed, “Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet--I--I reckon they’re trying to do you in.”

Harry glared at him. “Caught on, have you? Took you long enough?” Ron went to apologize but Harry’s face softened. “It’s okay. Forget it.”

“No,” Ron insisted. “I shouldn’t’ve--”

“ _Forget it_ ,” Harry repeated.

Ron grinned at him.

Harry smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Christmas gift for my best friend, Kat (I'm moving my fics from Tumblr to AO3). She requested a fic with Ron and this had been brewing in the back of my mind for a while. I always felt that Ron had been vilified for his actions in Goblet of Fire and that always bothered me as I’ve lost friends for lesser reasons than never feeling good enough so I hope you enjoy this fic. As an extra note, most of the dialogue from this fic is taken from Goblet of Fire as I’m only re-telling the story from a different point of view.


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